Naboo Queens
by angelrider13
Summary: Their Queen died the same moment everything she believed in crumbled to dust. They could not protect her. They failed her. They would not fail twice. Long live the Queen.
1. Ashes

**Hello all!**

 **Those of you on tumblr may remember me brainstorming this fic. I have finally gotten around to posting it. After much debate (and increasing fic length) I have decided to post it as a multi-chapter fic instead of a one shot.**

 **Basically this is an AU in which all of Padmé's handmaidens - past and present - form a rebel cell. They become known as the Naboo Queens because of the fact that they all wear the ceremonial makeup when they go on missions.**

 **This story is inspired by a sw headcanon posted on nabooqueen's tumblr.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, but this story is mine.**

* * *

Ashes

* * *

Sabé stood quietly by the window and gazing out at Theed. The city was solemn and silent. Grieving. Just like she was. But the city was grieving a figure, a symbol. Sabé was grieving all of that and more. She was grieving a friend, a sister, a Queen.

Padmé Amidala was dead.

And that knowledge made Sabé _ache_.

This war had taken so much from them. So much. And now it had taken a light that made the universe shine. So many of those lights had been put out in the last few days. The galaxy was becoming a darker place and no one seemed to notice. In fact they seemed _pleased_. She'd seen what had happened at Senate. Had been sitting there at Padmé's shoulder when Republic changed to Emipre and the people had cheered. Cheered at the death of thousands of Jedi. People who had been fighting and dying for them while they sat safe in their offices and twiddled their thumbs. They applauded as the galaxy burned to ashes around them – gave their new Emperor a standing ovation.

Padmé had been furious and horrified.

Two days later, she was dead.

Her funeral procession had been three days ago. She was beautiful, even in death. Sabé remembered thinking that she looked just as she always did, as if she were only sleeping, as she wove flowers into her Queen's hair. She had wrapped the japor snippet necklace Anakin had gifted his wife around cold fingers, clasping those hands over her breast. And then Sabé mourned anew. Because her Queen's stomach was still swollen with child. It was not one life that was lost this day, but two.

The city was in mourning. The city, however, was not having doubts.

Sabé was.

She had not been with Padmé at the moment of her death. She was not witness to it. But she was their when the _Emperor_ – a thought that still sends a chill down her spine – had released a statement about what happened. Killed by Jedi renegades.

A woman who had close ties to the Order since the Blockade Crisis thirteen years ago. A woman who had worked closely with the Jedi for the last three years – for the entirety of the war. A woman who had secretly _married_ a Jedi. Killed by them in cold blood.

She did not believe it.

"We left her."

Sabé turned at the voice, finding Ellé staring back at her. Moteé sat next to her, their hands clasped. Both were pale, eyes red and swollen from hours of grief.

"We left her," Ellé repeated, her voice breaking.

Dormé reached out and wrapped an arm around the younger woman, her own face lined with the same pain the laced Ellé's voice.

Sabé moved away from the window then, facing the other women in the room. Women she had known and worked with for years. They had lived together, trained together, bled together. They were the handmaidens of one Padmé Naberrie Amidala, past and present. They had come together to mourn the woman they all considered to be their Queen even though it had been years since she had given up the title. Padmé had brought light back to their world as Queen and had continued to do so as senator. As far as everyone in this room was considered, Queen was a title that would always belong to Padmé.

"We did," Sabé said softly, her heart aching at the admission, "But we know there was nothing that could have stopped her."

Eirtaé shook her head. "We would never have been able to stop her, whatever it was she was doing. But we should have gone with her."

Sabé and Eirtaé shared a look. They had been with Padmé the longest. They were the ones that decided to remain with her when she became a senator while the others stayed on Naboo. They had known their Queen better than anyone. And they both knew exactly what Padmé would be thinking right now.

"There is no time for 'should haves'," Sabé said calmly as Eirtaé moved to stand beside her, "Our Queen is dead. And everything she loved has died with her."

Dormé, Moteé and Hollé pressed their lips together, faces twisted up in distaste. They had been there to listen to the birth of the Empire.

"It's true then?" Yané asked softly, brow pinched.

Umé nodded. "The Republic is dead. The Jedi have been slaughtered."

"And not two days later, Padmé is dead," Miré added, eyes narrowed, "She would never have approved."

"No she wouldn't," Dormé agreed, "But I doubt that everything is as it seems."

"Do they honestly expect people to believe that the _Jedi_ are the ones responsible for her death?" Rabé asked skeptically.

"To be honest, I don't think anyone cares enough to question it." Hollé answered.

"Or if they do, fear keeps them from speaking up," Moteé added.

Ellé shook her head. "I don't understand. How can anyone be happy about what has become of the Jedi? Of the Republic?"

"Fear," Sabé said, her soft voice cutting through the room, "This entire war has been about fear mongering. The more fear there was, the more power was handed over to the Chancellor. Enough fear and they made him Emperor. Enough fear and they applauded the slaughter of thousands."

They sat in silence for a long moment. None of them could understand it. How such a radical change could happen so quickly, so rapidly, and with so little resistance.

Saché broke the silence. One of their youngest who was soft spoken and kind and loathed any form of violence but was quick to defend her Queen with her life.

"What do we do?" she asked, looking directly at Sabé.

Sabé who was always their Queen's double. Sabé who was her shield and her sword, advisor and friend.

She looked to Eirtaé, the woman who had served their Queen just as long as she and lived through this war with her. The blond met her eyes and gave her a firm nod.

"We," Sabé started slowly, looking each woman in the eye, "are going to enact our Queen's will. Freedom and justice will not die with her. For now, they will sleep and when the time comes we will ensure that they rise from the ashes."

There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the room.

It was Fé who stood, spine straight and chin raised, eyes alight with fire. It was Fé who spoke their promise.

"Long live the Queen."

* * *

 **Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? Let me know!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	2. Waiting

**Hello lovelys!**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!**

 **The main point of this fic is for Sabé and gang to find their Queen's kids, so most of this fic is going to happen in OT timeline. I will however be in post-ROTS timeline for maybe 2/3 more chapters. But this fic is mostly about Luke and Leia learning about their mom. Because no one ever talks to them about their mom, damnit! It's always about Anakin. We need some more Padmé legacy going on here. And thus this was born.  
**

 **Anywho.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy the second part.**

* * *

Waiting

* * *

"I heard congratulations are in order, Senator," Sabé said as she took a seat across from the man, Eirtaé claiming the seat on her right, Dormé , the one on her left.

Bail smiled at her with genuine happiness, though a quiet, tired grief lingered in his eyes. "Thank you, Sabé," he said, "And please, call me Bail. We've known each other for years and this is hardly a formal setting."

This was true.

There had been much discussion between them – months' worth of ideas debated back and forth. In the end, it had been Hollé who'd suggested that they start by speaking to the members of the Delegation of 2000. Sabé had decided that they would speak to Bail Organa first and foremost. He had become a close friend and confidant of their Queen over the course of the war and the man had had strong friendships with several jedi, including one Obi-Wan Kenobi. The handmaidens that had been with Padmé during her time as senator remembered that the jedi had genuinely liked the Alderaanii Senator – something that Sabé considered to be high praise as Master Kenobi's distaste for politicians was known to her. Sabé herself liked the man as well.

She returned his smile. "Bail, then."

"Now then," Bail said, threading his fingers together and resting his chin on them, dark eyes meeting hers, "As much of a joy little Leia is, I find myself doubting that the three of you came all the way here in person just to offer your congratulations. What can I do for you?"

Sabé pressed her lips together. "Padmé has been dead for several months now," she said after a moment. Surprise flashed across Bail's face, though he stayed quiet. "I imagine that you heard the report the Empire made about her death?"

Bail dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I did."

"Do you believe it?" Eirtaé asked softly.

"No," Bail answered without a moment's hesitation.

The three women exchanged quick glances.

"You helped Padmé draft the Delegation of 2000," Dormé said, "How much of that is still alive?"

Bail looked at the three of them for a long moment, face blank. His gaze was heavy and there was a dark kind of knowledge in his eyes that would perhaps scare them were they anyone else or any less determined. But they were the handmaidens of Padmé Amidala and they were not so easily frightened; they each met his eyes and refused to look away.

"I wouldn't say alive so much as in a coma," he said at last.

Sabé's eyes narrowed. "Coma?" she asked, and from the way she could see both Eirtaé and Dormé straighten beside her, she knew that she'd slipped into her Amidala voice.

Bail nodded. "There is too much risk in making any kind of move right now. We have enough attention as it is. And after what happened to the Order and Separatist leaders…" He trailed off and shook his head. "The Emperor is too alert for that. For now we're biding our time."

Sabé turned that over in her head. He was right, she knew he was. Acting in any sort of capacity right now was a sure way to get killed and that was not what anyone needed. They were playing a waiting game right now. Putting up a loyal front and waiting for the fire to die down. It was much easier to smother embers than an inferno after all.

"Very well," Sabé conceded, "In the meantime you have our service."

Bail raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering between the three of them. "Our?" he repeated.

"The handmaidens of Queen Amidala stand with you," Eirtaé declared, head held high, "We will see the will of our Queen done."

Dormé nodded. "We will fight for what our Queen died for," she said firmly.

Bail's face showed open surprise at their declaration. "All of you?" he asked, stunned, "Surely –"

"We are all well aware of the danger, Bail," Sabé cut in gently. And they were. They knew it very well, for they had lived it. They all knew what they were getting into years ago when their training started. Then the war began. Sabé remembered Cordé and Versé, lost in an assassination attempt on their Queen. She remembered Teckla – young and eager to please, but loyal to a fault – killed helping their Queen uncover a plot. She remembered attending their funeral services. Yes, she knew the risks very well. "But this is the path that we have all chosen."

Bail sighed, fond and exasperated and sad all at once. "You're all exactly like her, aren't you?"

The three women before him smiled, politely innocent.

Bail just shook his head.

"Well then," he said, "I suppose we'd best get started."

The four of them spoke of possibilities. Jar Jar Binks was to become Naboo's senator in the wake of Padmé's death. He had offered them places with him if they wished. They discussed the benefits and pitfalls of accepting positions so close to the Emperor. Having an in with the Senate would, in theory, give them many more opportunities. Now was the time to lay the foundation if they wished to take advantage of those opportunities when they arose. They also discussed the merits of staying close to Naboo, the homeworld of the newly declared Emperor.

"Perhaps, we should split," Dormé suggested, "Some of us on Naboo and some on Coruscant. Rabé could run things on Naboo well enough. Eirtaé could lead those of us on Coruscant."

Sabé considered. "It's sound," she mused, turning the idea over in her head.

"We'd be able to take advantage of both placements," Eirtaé said, "And you would be free to travel between us."

Sabé blinked. "Me?"

Eirtaé and Dormé both looked at her unimpressed.

"Of course you," the blond said, rolling her eyes, "You've always been Padmé's second. Who else do you think we'd defer to? And don't," she hastily added when Sabé opened her mouth to protest, "Say me."

Sabé scowled. "Well you've just as much experience as I have," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "But fine. If I must."

Dormé and Eirtaé grinned in triumph. Sabé scowled at them, the expression deepening when she turned back to their host to find him smirking at her.

She huffed, rolling her eyes, before sobering. "What of the Jedi?" she asked, "Did any of them survive?"

Eirtaé and Dormé stiffened beside her and she knew she wasn't entirely successful at keeping the tremor from her voice, keeping her hope hidden.

The sadness on Bail's face was nothing compared to the pain that had been there for Padmé.

"Yes," he answered softly, "Some of them survived. I don't know how many; it was a very well-crafted genocide."

Sabé's lips pressed together tightly as she struggled not to blurt out her thoughts. Eirtaé intertwined their fingers and spoke for her.

"Master Kenobi?" she asked.

Bail said nothing, but he gave them a short shallow nod.

Sabé closed her suddenly burning eyes and swallowed against the pressure in her throat. Eirtaé squeezed her hand so tightly she felt her bones grind together. Dormé released a shuddering sigh.

Alive.

Obi-Wan was alive.

Sabé sent thanks to whatever deities she could think of; someone had survived this insanity. She was happy it was him. And she immediately felt guilty for thinking that. She knew Obi-Wan, well she liked to think she did. And everything she knew about him was telling her that he would not be anything close to happy about his survival. Especially when Knight Skywalker was dead. Padmé as well. The three of them had a strange relationship. Always getting into trouble together – it was always interesting with that trio.

But the trio had been reduced to one.

Obi-Wan was likely mourning even more than she was, yet Sabé could not help but be happy at his continued survival. No matter how guilty it made her feel.

"Is he safe?" she asked.

"As safe as he can be," Bail answered.

Sabé nodded.

He was not safe at all. He was a Jedi through and through. And while the Empire ruled there would be no peace for him.

But he was alive and out of harm's way for now.

It was enough.

* * *

"Sabé, there is a favor I would like to ask of you," Bail said as they walked through one of the palace's gardens.

She tilted her head, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Yes?"

"My daughter, Leia, when she is old enough, I would like for you to teach her."

Sabé's eyebrows rose and she turned to face him. "Teach her what?"

Because for someone in her line of work, that simple phrase could mean a lot of things. And Bail wasn't really someone she considered willing to teach his daughter how to shoot –

"Everything," he said simply.

Sabé regarded him quietly, eyes roving over his face. He was serious. "Do you know what you are asking?"

Bail dipped his head. "I've discussed it with my wife and she agrees. I'm asking you to teach my daughter how to keep herself safe. To teach her what she needs to survive but also what she needs to help others."

Sabé smiled at him. "You don't need me for something like that," she said gently, "You are kindness and durasteel, Bail. She can learn all she needs from you and Breha."

Bail laughed – real and genuine. Sabé felt warmth in her chest at the sound of it. It had been a sound that had been far too absent in her life as of late and she suspects that it will continue to be so. She would keep these moments close to her heart and treasure them.

"Be that as it may," Bail said once he calmed, smile still lingering on his face, "You have experience that both of us lack. You've known Padmé for years, I know you've learned more from her than either of us can fathom."

Sabé stilled. "You want me to teach her about Padmé."

Bail's face twisted up in thought. "Not…exactly," he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words, "Breha can teach her how to be a woman and I can teach her about the Senate. But you can teach her how to be a woman in the Senate. That is an experience that neither of us can give her."

Sabé watched him, something nagging the back of her mind. He was dancing away from the point. He wanted her to teach Leia, but would not tell her the real reason why – only hint at it. And that reason had to do with Padmé.

"Alright," she said softly.

Bail looked more relieved than she expected him to. "You'll teach her, then? To be one of you?"

Sabé gave him a serene smile.

"No," she said, "I'll teach her to be a Queen."

* * *

 **And done. Thoughts?**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	3. Lesson

**Hello, my darlings!**

 **So sorry for the delay on this. I've started working full time now, so updates are probably going to slow down some because working full time is exhausting. But I will try my best to keep them consistant.**

 **Thanks to everyone who took the time to review!**

 **It should be noted that I gave Sabé a last name because I couldn't find one for her. So every time you see the name "Naeva" that's Sabé.**

* * *

Lesson

* * *

Two weeks after Leia turned ten, she got a new tutor.

Ms. Naeva was different from her other tutors. Leia couldn't quite tell how or why, but she knew. There was something special about her. The way she looked at Leia sometimes like she was the brightest star in the galaxy even though something about the way the woman's eyes shined made her think of sadness – not like when it rained and she couldn't play outside, but the kind that echoed, like when someone left and never came back.

(That's happened a few times before. People around the palace would leave – the gardener, the pilot, the guard. She asked her father once when her old nanny had been gone for more than a month. His eyes got dark and he pressed his lips and all Leia could feel was the hopeless _grief_ spilling out of him. So much so that she didn't even hear his answer.

Leia stopped asking after that.)

Ms. Naeva was different because she didn't treat Leia like a princess. She used all of the titles and ceremony when they were in public, of course, but Leia could always tell when she was hiding a grin behind her neutral expression or when she hid her desire to yell at someone behind a polite smile.

When they were alone, Leia was allowed to ask what she wanted and say what she pleased. Ms. Naeva always called her by name when they were alone, never "Princess," never "Your Highness." She was only ever just Leia with Ms. Naeva. And she rather liked it that way, even if the differences confused her sometimes.

It was like how her parents were "Mama" and "Papa" in private and "Your Majesty" and "Viceroy" in public.

"You are in a position of importance, Leia," Ms. Naeva would say, "That means in public, there are certain expectations that you must meet. But when you are in private, with your family and friends, then you are not beholden to those expectations."

Leia understood. Even if she didn't like it. Some of these people were not nice at all, like a lot of the people who visited with Papa from the Core. They were rude and mean and Leia didn't like a lot of them.

Ms. Naeva just smiled at her when she mentioned it, a strange glint in her eyes that Leia didn't quite understand. "You will often encounter people you don't like, little one. The important part is to make sure that they absolutely adore you."

Leia tilted her head to the side, brow furrowed. How in the world was that supposed to work? It didn't make much sense. "Why?"

"Because then they will give you exactly what you want without question," Ms. Naeva said, "Politics are a dangerous and complicated game, Leia. And I am here to ensure it is one you know how to play."

* * *

Leia looked at the blaster in her hands skeptically.

Today's lesson had not started in the usual way with books and lectures. Ms. Naeva had taken her to one of the more secluded gardens in the palace. There were four droids there; small round things that she remembered seeing the guards use for practice once or twice.

It's not that she's never seen a blaster before. It's just, well.

"Are you _sure_ Papa told you to teach me how to shoot?"

Alderaan was peaceful.

They didn't believe war or violence was a way to solve problems. It was something she'd been told her whole life – not something she'd always agreed with (there have been moments where she'd wanted nothing more than to punch someone in their smug face; the Emperor was at the top of her list) but it's something that was very much a part of her and her culture.

Ms. Naeve tilted her head in acknowledgement from where she was adjusting the droids' settings. "Your father asked me to teach you everything I know," she said simply, "This is something I know."

Leia frowned. "But on Alderaan, we don't believe in violence. We always try to find a peaceful solution."

Her teacher looked up at that, her solemn expression surprising Leia. "And what do you do when there is no peaceful solution?" she asked, "When diplomacy fails and no amount of negotiation will ever work? What then?"

Leia pressed her lips together and looked back down to the blaster in her hands. It was a small, delicate looking thing. Silver, with smooth edges and curved lines. It was hard to believe that something like this could be so dangerous.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up into her tutor's soft eyes. "Leia, not wanting to fight is not a weakness," Ms. Naeva said, "There is no easy answer. And if it is, then it is most likely the wrong one."

"If the right thing were easy, then everyone would do it," Leia murmured. It was something Mama said often.

Ms. Naeva smiled. "I am here to teach you, Leia. I will give you all the skills you will need to survive. But it is your decision whether or not you use them," she said, "It's always better to have the knowledge and be able to make a choice than it is to know nothing and have no choice at all."

Leia nodded. That made sense. She looked up, new fire in her eyes. "Show me."

* * *

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Leia cried, frustrated, "The blockade doesn't serve any purpose in this scenario!"

"It does," Ms. Naeva said calmly, "It is a show of power, of strength."

"But there is no logical reason for the blockade to exist," Leia insisted. The situation Ms. Naeva presented her with made no sense. The planet in question was peaceful, with no means to fight back and there was no reason – politically or economically – to cut off its trade routes.

Her tutor didn't seem to agree. She merely raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "So?"

Anger burned in her stomach and she felt her cheeks heat. She held herself back from stomping her foot like a child having a tantrum. Barely. It was frustrating. The hypothetical situations she was usually presented with had always seems so straight forward. This one was not. And she didn't like it.

"You have two options," Ms. Naeva continued, seeming oblivious to her frustration, "You can stay and be pressured into signing a treaty that will allow the blockade or you can flee and seek help from the Senate."

Leia collapsed back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest, a harsh frown on her face as she mulled over her choices. If she chose the first option, she would likely be imprisoned until she agreed to sign the treaty. But if she did that, there would be no more use for her and she would likely be killed – and she would be no use to anyone dead.

The second option sounded much more logical. But she would also be leaving her people. Not to mention she was well aware of the fact that the Senate was slow to act having been exposed to it for most of her life. If the Emperor could not be swayed (and he rarely was) to the cause, there was no point. The Senate held no power, not really, so bringing the case before it was a fairly useless course of action. She would be leaving her people to get caught up in politics that would be the equivalent of talking to a duracrete wall.

Haltingly, she explained her thoughts – neither of those options were good.

But Ms. Naeva was not moved. "They are the only ones you have."

Leia frowned.

She didn't know the answer.

* * *

"Is something wrong, Leia?"

She looked up at her mother's question. Seeing her parents' concerned expressions, Leia put her fork down with a sigh.

"Not exactly," she said, gesturing helplessly, "I just – Ms. Naeva gave me a problem today that I…don't know how to solve."

Her father raised a brow. "Normally you wouldn't let something like this bother you."

Leia made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. "I've been thinking about it all day and I feel like I haven't gotten any closer to finding a solution!"

"Perhaps if you explained what you were thinking it would help," Mama said.

Leia looked between her parents. They both smiled at her. She knew they wouldn't give her the answer; that would defeat the purpose of the exercise. But she'd seen Mama listen to Papa's proposals for the Senate and Papa listen to Mama's speeches. Carefully, she laid out the scenario that Ms. Naeva had given her.

She watched as something knowing flashed across Papa's eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips as if he was remembering something years past. He wore the same expression when he and Mama talked about her toddler years. But there was something sadder about it, older. Whoever Papa was remembering, they were very important.

"Well," he said as Leia finished explaining her two options, "What do you think?"

"I think that I lose no matter what I choose," Leia answered.

Mama smiled – but it wasn't her smile. Not the one for her and Papa. This was the one she wore in Court. This was her Queen smile. "Losing is not an option in this scenario, child mine," she said.

Leia groaned, falling back in her chair. "I know!"

"You're over complicating it, dearheart," Mama continued, "I think the situation can be boiled down to a much simpler question."

Leia's brow furrowed. "What?"

Mama's smile grew warm, but there was durasteel in her eyes. Papa was the same, eyes full of warmth and mischief and knowing.

"The question, dear Leia, is this," Mama said, "What do you do when faced with two impossible options?"

* * *

A week later, Leia was still thinking.

"Do you have an answer?" Ms. Naeva asked.

Leia sighed. "No," she grumbled.

Her tutor just chuckled at her. "Here," she said, "Let's run through the kata I showed you yesterday; it might help you think."

Leia liked this kata. It was smoother and flowed easily than others she had tried. Ms. Naeva said it was best to be familiar with all available options even after picking a focus. The other kata seemed to…choppy to her. The movements felt jerky and unnatural. But this one felt right.

"It's based on a Jedi kata," Ms. Naeva told her quietly after their first session with this particular form.

"You knew the Jedi?" Leia asked, voice hushed in awe, eyes alight with excitement.

Ms. Naeva gave her a melancholy smile. "Yes," she said, "I worked with them often when I was on Coruscant. I knew several of them personally. You pick up a few things."

Following the motion of the kata, Leia felt peace settle around her. She didn't have to think or speak, she just moved. Her body flowed from one stance to the next, easily and gracefully as if it were a dance. When she finished and her arms lowered into the rest position, Ms. Naeva was wearing a smile.

"Very good, Leia," she said, "Let's take a break."

They wandered over to one of the small ponds in the garden, Leia sipping some water and nibbling on the fruit Ms. Naeva gave her. Her muscles ached pleasantly, her mind humming with the same accomplishment she felt every time she successfully completed a kata.

"Still no answer?" Ms. Naeva asked after a long, content silence.

Leia shook her head. "No," she said, though the admission didn't frustrate her as much now as it had earlier, "I spoke with my parents though, and Mama says that I'm over thinking it."

Ms. Naeva just hummed, her expression giving nothing away. After a moment, she spoke.

"My home planet is much like Alderaan," she said.

Leia blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Where are you from?"

Ms. Naeva smiled, fond and wistful. "Naboo," she answered, "It's beautiful there, just as it is here. Peaceful. It's more water than mountains though." She sighed, eyes distant with memory. "Swimming in the lakes during the summer, lying out to dry on the sand…those are some of my fondest memories."

Leia drew her legs underneath her as she tried to picture it. "It sounds nice," she said, she'd never had the opportunity for such a thing – as Princess, she was often busy.

Ms. Naeva shot her a glance, eyes teasing, "Perhaps I'll take you one day."

Leia grinned. "I'd like that."

Her tutor hummed. "Naboo is a planet rich with water. We are taught from an early age to respect it," she said.

"Water?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

Ms. Naeva laughed. "Yes. Off worlders always think it's strange," she said, "But you must understand, Leia, Naboo is mostly water. One of the first things we are ever taught is how to swim. One of our native races is aquatic. Water is everywhere on Naboo."

"When you say it like that, it makes sense," Leia said, "Alderaan has no shortage of water, but here it's just something that is."

Ms. Naeva nodded. "It's a cultural thing," she explained, "You cannot expect every planet to adhere to Alderaani understanding and customs. Each planet has their own culture, their own beliefs and you must respect each one – even if you don't agree with it."

Leia nodded. This was something her parents had been telling her since she was old enough to enter Mama's Court. "But Alderaan and Naboo are close, aren't they?"

"Yes. Our two planets have a long history together. But that doesn't make us the same people," Ms. Naeva said, "We view something as simple as water differently."

Leia hummed and looked down into the pond, wondering what her teacher saw that she did not. "Well how do you see it?" she asked.

Ms. Naeva smiled, a pleased light entering her eyes. "There are stories told to us as children," she explained, "Water is life and death, cool and warm, giving and taking. It is a series of contradictions that are entirely unpredictable. But there is one thing that always stays the same."

"What?"

"Water does not resist," Ms. Naeva said simply, "It flows. If I plunge my hand in water," and she did just that, her fingers easily sliding through the pond's surface, "all I feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But," here her tutor paused, drawing her hand back and looking at Leia with a solemn gravity she didn't really understand, "water always goes where it wants to, and, in the end, nothing can stand against it. Water is patient. It can carve canyons through the land, can wear away stone into nothing given time."

Ms. Naeva reached out and pressed wet fingertips to her cheek. "Remember that, Leia. Remember that you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does."

* * *

Leia sighed, letting her head fall forward into her book.

Intergalactic law, while something that fascinated her, was not something one should read about for hours on end. She felt like her brain was melting.

"Time for a break," she declared, pushing away from her desk and walking over to her balcony.

The sun was low in the sky, not quite setting yet, but low enough that the sky was already giving hints of changing. The air was crisp and smelt of rain. In the distance, she could see Ishanii Lake.

 _Water is patient_.

After speaking with Ms. Naeva that day, she'd thought of her tutor's words often. Though it was not explicitly stated, Leia knew that she had been given a hint.

 _What do you do when faced with two impossible options?_

If both options are impossible – and they were, Leia had looked at both of them from every possible angle and neither of them worked – then she couldn't pick either of them. They were the only options she had been give and she couldn't pick either of them. Not if she wanted to solve the problem.

 _If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it._

Go around it. Go around the problem. But how?

She couldn't stay – that option would end up with her imprisoned or dead. But if she left, she would get tied up in pointless politics.

If she couldn't take either of the options given to her…

 _It's always better to have the knowledge and be able to make a choice than it is to know nothing and have no choice at all._

…then she would make her own.

* * *

"I figured it out," Leia declared boldly the next morning.

Ms. Naeva raised her brows. "Oh? And which option would you take?"

"Neither," Leia said firmly, forcing herself to stay still under her teacher's scrutinizing gaze.

"They are the only options you have," Ms. Naeva reminded.

"But neither of them would work," Leia replied, "Staying would mean I'd be playing into their hands and leaving would be pointless. Either way my people would suffer."

Ms. Naeva's face remained blank. "You have to pick one," she said.

"No," Leia replied, a giddy smile appearing on her face, "I don't."

Her tutor raised a brow in question.

"I'll pick my own path," Leia continued, "I can't wait around for someone else to come save me or save my people for me. I'll save them myself."

There was a long moment of silence. Leia held her tutor's gaze, refusing to back down or shift nervously. She was right, she knew she was right. It had taken her a while, but she had figured it out.

A slow, pleased smile crept across Ms. Naeva's face. "Well done, Leia," she said.

Leia beamed.

"And you are correct. As Queen you will be both your people's sword and shield. There will come a time when politics will fail you. When help from off world is not an option. When the only one who can protect you is you," Ms. Naeva said, "Queens are a force of nature, Leia. They are water. They are the sea. They are a storm. Queens scream, Leia. They rage. If you harm what is theirs, they will drown you."

Leia nodded. She knew this. Mama was a Queen. A Queen needed to be soft and gentle and kind. But at her core, a Queen was harder than durasteel.

Ms. Naeva smiled.

"Tell me, Leia. What kind of Queen will you be?"

* * *

 **Little Leia is precious. Organa's are Best Parents. And Sabé is totally using Padmé's adventures as a teaching tool. Thoughts?  
**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	4. Mission: Silver

**Hello all!**

 **Sorry about the lack of update last week, but I was smack in the middle of a blizzard and it messed with my internet connection.**

 **Also, please read the note at the end of this chapter! It's important!**

 **Thank you to everyone who took the time to review!**

* * *

Mission

Silver

* * *

Silver was the color of mourning on Naboo.

It was her color.

Lady Ÿfana, the Keeper of Souls. The Weeping Woman with silver tears and a gentle touch.

Silver was bright, easy to see, a beacon.

It was the color of the soul.

* * *

Danè pulled the needle through the fabric, silver bright thread gleaming against dark purple. Silver for Lady Ÿfana. For their reason. For their Queen.

Color held meaning for them.

Clothing was important.

Appearance was everything.

Padmè had been fourteen when she was elected. She was young and inexperienced – people would think her weak. Most of them had been the same age or younger. They would be viewed the same as their Queen. Little girls playing at ruling a planet. So they disguised themselves. Traditional makeup, elaborate clothes. People wanted to see a Queen, so they were given one.

Danè had been young then, younger than Padmè. She thought the older girl a Queen without all the finery.

She held up her work, looking it over with a critical eye. There could be no mistakes. This was important. Their battle dress for their first mission.

A deep, rich purple tunic with long, billowing sleeves, silver embroidery swirling at the edges. A silver belt at the waist, the rest of the tunic tapering down the back past the knees, leaving the front open. Underneath, a purple bodysuit completed the look. The tunic's fabric was thick and padded and the bodysuit itself was armored. It was designed for easy movement, for concealment. The less skin showing the better. The bodysuit had a hood to hide their hair. Eirtaè was the only blond one among them and they needed to hide such distinctions.

They were one body, one mind, one identity.

Physical differences didn't matter.

They were one.

* * *

"Danè, it's beautiful," Sachè breathed, holding up her sleeves to look at the embroidery.

Danè gave her a pleased smile while she helped Fè tuck her hair into the bodysuit's hood, smoothing down the fabric so that it lay flat.

"Purple for remembrance," Rabè murmured, "Silver for mourning. Well done, Danè."

"Yanè helped. She made the headscarves," Danè said as she pinned the afore mentioned garment in place on Fè.

Yanè huffed, not even looking up from where she was painting Sachè's face white. "You still made our battle dress for this mission. For _all_ of us. Even those of us that aren't going to run this mission. Stop being so modest."

Danè, in her infinite maturity, stuck out her tongue in response.

Sabè's lips quirked up ever so slightly in a way that meant she would be beaming were she not in makeup. She tended to slip into the role of Queen Amidala at an unconscious level as soon as it was applied. Next to her, Rabè rolled her eyes at them even as she reached for the red paint.

"No," Sabè said, reaching out to stop her, "Not red. Paint me with Ÿfana's Tears."

Rabè blinked before nodding slowly, fingers passing over red and reaching for silver instead. She applied the makeup quickly and easily – the Scar of Remembrance on Sabè's lips, Ÿfana's Tears on her cheeks. She stepped back as she finished.

Sabè's eyes slid open and Danè sucked in a sharp breath.

It was the first time in ages that any of them had donned the traditional makeup. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stomach bubbling with anticipation and nerves in equal parts.

Queen Amidala sat before them.

" _Force_ ," Yanè whispered breathlessly, "You still look exactly like her."

Sabè gave them a sad smile, eyes gleaming. "Don't make me cry, Yanè. Rabè already painted my tears."

Yanè ducked her head, pressing her fingers to her eyes. Sachè reached over and rubbed soothing circles into the younger woman's back.

"We've already cried so much," Sachè said softly, "So much so that it feels like we'll never stop."

"Sometimes crying is the only way to explain how broken your heart is," Fè murmured.

"We lost our sister, our Queen," Sabè said, "Of course we weep."

"Then perhaps we should all show our tears," Danè said, "This is our first appearance – let the worlds know that we grieve. Let them know that we have been broken and that we are stronger for it."

They smiled, fierce and sad all at the same time.

Sabè stood, taking the silver paint from Rabè as she passed. With steady hands and long practiced movements, their Queen's double painted Danè's face with silver tears.

"Some women are lost in fire," she said, her voice the deep tones of Queen Amidala, "We were forged in it."

Danè smiled. "And we shine that much brighter because of it."

* * *

Silver was the color of mourning on Naboo.

It was the color of tears.

But tears made them braver. Pain made them stronger. Heartbreak made them wiser.

They were not broken.

They were silver.

* * *

 **So, important things to note. Mission is going to be more than one chapter. However, I will be continuing the main story at the same time, so you guys will have to pay attention to the chapter title!**

 **Now here's the part I want you to pay special attention to: Prompt me!**

 **Mission chapters are most likely not going to be that long, but the "chapter" is meant to cover the time period between ROTS and A New Hope. I already have some ideas, but it's 19 years to cover - if you have an idea I'd love to hear it! Now I won't promise to fill every prompt (and if that is the case I will tell you ASAP) because sometimes the muses just don't wanna work with a prompt, but if you have a thought, let me know.**

 **There are some conditions: it has to be in the specified time frame. If you want something BEFORE ROTS, I'll consider it if you can pitch it to me as a good flashback. If you want something AFTER A New Hope - no. I have enough plot bunnies for after. Don't you dare give me more. I might cry.**

 **That being said, go nuts. You can ask for shenanigans, mission angst, aftermath. You can ask for more little Leia. You can ask for people's reactions to the appearance of their rebel cell. You can ask for more Bail and Breha. You can ask for Naboo Court or Imperial Senate events/spy stuff. Ask away!**

 **You can prompt in a review or send me a PM.**

 **These prompts will most likely be posted in bulk - as in more than one chapter on Sundays.**

 **Until nest time,**

 **~Elri**


	5. Mission: Voice

**This one wasn't prompted, but is just something that floated through my brain.**

* * *

Mission

Voice

* * *

Yané was furious with herself.

She should have been paying more attention. Should have been faster. Should have, would have, could have.

Now she was staring as Saché's equally furious and terrified face as a blade is pressed against the delicate flesh of her throat.

She'd been caught. She'd made a stupid mistake and now she was paying for it. Her only saving grace was that the man holding her life in his hands was a bounty hunter and not a stormtrooper. Bounty hunters were more…negotiable than Stormtroopers. Not that it gave her much, but it was still something.

"Let her go," Saché said, voice the velvety rich tones of Naboo royalty.

"Hmmm, I think not," the bounty hunter purred from behind her, "The Empire pays quite well, you see. And you pretty queens have been stirring up so much trouble lately."

Saché lifted an eyebrow, looking entirely unruffled and perhaps a bit unimpressed. "You flatter," she said, "But what makes you think I will let you take her?"

Yané could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered, "You think you can stop me, little lady?"

She met Saché's eyes and twisted her wrist ever so slightly. Cool metal slid against her palm, the knife she'd kept hidden in her sleeve coming loose, her fingers curling around the ring at the dagger's end. She saw the acknowledgement in Saché's expression where others would miss it, covered by makeup and a blank expression.

Yané waited a beat and then shoved the dagger into the bounty hunter's thigh. The man screeched, but she was already moving, throwing her body back into his. She felt his blade bite into her flesh as she fell, but she was free of his hold. Her hand came up on instinct and clutched at her throat. She tasted copper on her tongue and she felt warmth flowing down her throat, soaking her.

Somewhere above her, she heard two blaster shots in quick succession and then silence.

Saché's face appeared in her graying vision and Yané could tell she had gone pale under white makeup. Her lips were moving, she was clearly saying something, but Yané couldn't hear her. She felt Saché's arms around her, lifting her as the world closed in around her and everything went dark.

* * *

When Yané woke, she found herself lying in a bed, covers pulled up to her chin, with the oddest sensation that she had a ball of yarn lodged in her throat. She blinked up at the ceiling in confusion, puzzling the strange sensation when a soft sigh drew her attention.

Tilting her head, she saw Rabé sitting by her bed, frowning at the datapad she held.

She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a rusty croak. Rabé startled and looked up at her, eyes wide and Yané felt the burning prickle of tears in her own. Speaking was not a good idea.

"Easy, Yané," Rabé said, helping prop her up and then holding a glass of water to her lips. "Slowly now, your throat is still pretty raw."

Right. Her throat. The bounty hunter. The knife.

She reached up, carefully feeling the bandages wrapped around her neck. She looked at Rabé in askance.

The other woman sighed. "You lost a lot of blood, so you'll be weak for a little while, the wound was pretty deep. It's been healed for the most part, but…" Rabé trailed off, pressing her lips into a thin line.

Yané's brow furrowed and she tugged on Rabé's arm.

"The blade was poisoned," she admitted after a moment, "The healers did their best, Yané, but they don't think you'll ever be able to talk again."

Yané stared at her.

Her voice.

Her voice was gone.

Her voice was gone and it wasn't coming back.

"I'm sorry, Yané," Rabé murmured, sliding up onto the bed and wrapping her arms around her.

Yané blinked and realized she was crying. Her throat felt thick and heavy and swollen. She couldn't swallow. She couldn't breathe.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rabé said, rubbing a firm, gentle hand down her back, "You're okay, you hear me? You're okay and we'll figure this out."

But she couldn't speak and more.

She couldn't sing.

Oh Force, she couldn't sing any more.

She loved singing.

Padmé loved her singing.

Saché –

Saché.

Yané jolted, snatching one of Rabé's hands and tracing letters into her palm.

Rabé blinked rapidly at the sudden movement, brow furrowing as she realized what Yané was doing. "Saché?"

Yané nodded.

"She's perfectly fine," Rabé said soothingly, smoothing a hand over Yané's dark hair, "She's upset, of course. We all are. But she feels that she should have done something more."

Yané shook her head, perhaps a little too wildly, stopping with a wince with the movement pulled at her throat.

Rabé gave her a sad smile. "I know it's not her fault," she said, "She does to. But that's not going to stop her from feeling like she should have been able to stop it."

Yané frowned and pointed at herself. It was her fault. Her mistake. She got caught when she shouldn't have. She cut herself on the poisoned blade escaping. Her fault.

"You know that's not how it works," Rabé said, a slight smile tugging at her lips, "Things happen. It's not anyone's fault."

Yané glared at her and very pointedly crossed her arms over her chest.

Rabé just smirked. "I'll just go tell the girls you're up, shall I?"

Yané threw a pillow at the other woman as she fled the room laughing.

* * *

 _It's not your fault._

Yané watched Saché read the words. Watched the emotions that played across her face, the way her lips pressed into a line, the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The way she turned her face, refusing to look her in the eye.

She frowned, pushing lightly at Saché's shoulder and holding the note out to her again. Stubborn. Insistent.

Saché blew out a frustrated breath. "I just stood there," she hissed, glaring at the ground, "I just stood there and _watched –_ "

That's it.

Yané reached over and punched her in the arm. Hard.

Saché yelped and turned to glare at her – finally, _finally_ , looking at her. Yané took hold of her chin with one hand and shoved the plast in Saché's face with the other. She stood like that for a long moment until she heard Saché sigh.

"Alright," she said, gently pushing Yané's hands away, "Alright, not my fault."

Yané nodded firmly and reached up to pat her cheek patronizingly.

Saché rolled her eyes. "You know, you don't really need your voice to be such a demanding little brat. That's just all you."

Yané just beamed at her.

* * *

 **Well, these women are waging a war and there's no way they would come out unscathed. Stuff happens.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	6. Mission: Mother

**For Somariel.**

* * *

Mission

Mother

* * *

Jobal Naberrie was, first and foremost, a mother.

She and her husband had been gifted with two beautiful girls to raise as their own.

She was a mother.

More specifically, she was the mother of a Queen.

Her little girl turned fourteen and suddenly she was the leader of an entire planet.

As a result, Jobal was intimately familiar with what it meant to be Queen. She had also been around enough Nubian Royalty to pick up the subtle differences underneath the elaborate headdresses, fancy clothes, and traditional makeup. Queens Amidala, Jamillia, Neeyutnee, Apailana and so on all looked different if you knew what to look for. Not only that, but as much as they tried, the handmaidens that often served as their decoys could never entirely match their Queens, though some came closer than others.

Still, Jobal was a mother.

More specifically, she was the mother of a Queen.

And she watched her Queen-Daughter grow from infancy to adulthood. She'd known her Queen-Daughter from the moment she'd held her tiny body against her breast for the first time. Known her body, heart, and soul.

And right now, Jobal felt like she was looking at a ghost.

It was a news report about a group of rebels. Rebels that were all young women with white faces, red beauty marks on their cheeks and the Scar of Remembrance on their lips. The clip showed several women, blasters in hand, in the process of destroying a military supply outpost. They were all dressed identically, but there was one woman the others all seemed to defer to.

And when Jobal first caught a glimpse of her, she felt the breath knocked from her lungs.

Because for the briefest of moments, she thought she was looking into the face of her Queen-Daughter again – regal and fierce and _alive._

But Jobal was a mother.

And a mother knows her daughter anywhere.

She was a Queen's mother and she had been around enough Nubian Royalty to be able to pick up on the differences between them.

As much as she wished it, as much as her heart _ached_ for it to be so, she knew that was not her Queen-Daughter's face.

But she still knew that face. Oh she knew it.

Because for all that her little girl was gone, Queen Amidala was standing on that screen, clear as day, challenging the injustice the galaxy seemed content to let fester.

"Ruwee," she called, voice cracking.

She suddenly realized she was trembling, eyes burning as tears threatened to fall.

"Ruwee," she called again, louder, clearer, "Sola!"

She wasn't sure what her voice sounded like, but it must have conveyed her turmoil because her daughter flew into the room, worry shining in her eyes.

"Mother?" she asked, coming to stand next to her, hand reaching out to take her elbow, "Mother, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

She couldn't answer, just gestured towards the holo. Sola turned and sucked in a sharp breath. Before her daughter could comment, her husband strode into the room, the same questions on his lips.

But he froze, eyes landing on the holo. Jobal saw the same thought process cross his face. The surprise, the grief, it was all there. He sat down on the couch with a heavy thump, eyes locked onto the image before them.

"Padmé," Sola whispered at last, breaking the silence that seemed to echo around them.

"No," Ruwee said, shaking his head, "But also yes."

"Queen Amidala," Jobal said and her husband nodded in agreement.

Sola looked between them and she could see the confusion and grief and fear in her daughter's face.

"Padmé died years ago, Sola." And oh, how it hurt to say that. It was something that she had known for well over a decade now, but the thought of it still sent a dagger through her heart. She knew that it always would. Her baby. Her little girl. Gone. "Queen Amidala is someone else entirely."

Sola's brow furrowed. "But…" she trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts.

Jobal could tell she didn't understand, not really. To her, Queen Amidala and Padmé had always been the same person. Ruwee understood; she could see it in his eyes. He'd been around their little girl and her handmaidens just as much as she. He knew where the line between their daughter and the Queen was.

"Do you think," Sola paused, lips twisted in thought, "Do you think she would, well, protest? She always hated violence, but…"

Ruwee hummed. "She never was one to take things lying down was she? No, I dare say she would approve. Not many people are brave enough to stand up these days."

"No," Sola agreed, eyes turning back to the holo, "No, they're not."

Jobal was a mother.

More specifically, she was the mother of a Queen.

And she knew her Queen-Daughter better than anyone.

Queens were water. They were calm and serene and patient. They were quiet and peaceful and soothing. But most importantly they were fierce and loyal and strong. Most importantly they knew that they could not be touched. That they could not be stopped.

Queens were water.

And water always found a way.

Her daughter always found a way.

"It's been a long time since we've seen the girls, don't you think, dear?" she asked her husband.

Ruwee tilted his head, a glint in his eyes that she'd seen so many times in their daughter springing to life. "Yes, I do believe it has been."

Jobal turned back to the holo, eyes holding Queen Amidala's. "We should fix that."

She was a mother.

But most importantly, she was the mother of a Queen.

* * *

 **I am actually very pleased with how this came out. What about you guys?**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	7. Skywalker: Part I

**Hello lovelies!**

 **Here it is! The moment we've been building up to since I started this thing! Who's excited?**

 **I know a lot of you have been waiting for this part, so I hope I did it justice.**

* * *

Skywalker

* * *

Sabé was brooding.

It wasn't a state of mind that she often allowed herself to be in, but given the current state of things in the galaxy, she thought she could be forgiven for it.

The Imperial Senate was no more.

This was hardly surprising.

She had known it was coming. For a long time now, the Senate had been nothing more than a fancy meeting place to listen to the Emperor talk about the glory that was the Empire and listen to the Senators bow acceptance with grandiose speeches. No, the only thing that surprised Sabé was how long the whole thing had taken. The Senate had been nothing but useless for years now. Though, she supposed, it was a good illusion of the opposite.

The final nail in the Senate's coffin must have been the events that preceded the end of the governmental body – something that Sabé still could not wrap her head around.

Alderaan.

The thought of it still sent a chill up her spine. An entire planet – gone. As if it had never been. And her people with her.

Greif had become a constant companion during these dark years, but now it flared to life with a vengeance.

 _Bail._

 _Breha._

Her heart _ached_ with the knowledge that she would never see either other them again. Her only solace was that her little Leia had been on a diplomatic mission and was nowhere near her home planet when it was destroyed.

Destroyed.

 _Force_.

An entire _planet_ reduced to nothing.

She couldn't believe such a thing was possible even though the evidence was staring her straight in the face.

That anyone could have that kind of power…

It wasn't right.

She remembered the tilt of the Emperor's lips and the gleam in this amber eyes even as he announced to the Senate that Alderaan was gone due to the work of a new rebel weapon.

She knew better.

She remembered the way whispers broke out around the room, the way everything suddenly became too quiet and loud all at once and her legs failed her as she sank to the ground in shock.

The Emperor put on a good show, but there was no hiding that he was pleased. Not from her. She'd learned what to look for long ago.

Alderaan.

A whole planet.

Not just that, but a Core World.

Gone in an instant.

Without thought or hesitation.

 _And he didn't care_.

Sabé knew. She knew that he was rotten, that he was heartless, that he cared little for life. The slaughter of the Jedi Order almost twenty years ago now had shown her that. The death of her Queen had shown her that.

This though, this was something different.

It was one thing to have an army that would obey your every order without question.

It was another thing entirely to have a weapon that could destroy whole planets.

A world killer.

Something needed to be done.

* * *

Naboo was usually a welcome sight.

But restless energy hummed under her skin and even her home planet could not cure her of it.

Sitting on her veranda looking out over the lake did nothing to calm her.

She turned at the sound of footsteps to see Eirtaé striding towards her, datapad clutched tightly in her hand. Her face was pinched and pale, her lips pressed into a thin line, her blue eyes full of turmoil.

Sabé straightened, voice coming out sharp. "Eirtaé?"

The blond woman stopped in front of her and made an aborted motion to hand her the datapad. "You might want to sit down for this," she said after a tense moment of silence.

Sabé narrowed her eyes, not amused. "I _am_ sitting down."

Eirtaé blinked, shaking herself. "Right," she said slowly, "Right. I just…"

Sabé held her hand out and after a moment's hesitation, Eirtaé handed her the datapad.

It was an intelligence report from the Alliance.

She pulled the pad towards her, eyes roving over the words there, stomach dropping as she read. Leia, her little storm, had been taken. Taken and she hadn't even known. By Darth Vader. She felt nauseous because she knew that whatever happened, it was not good. And not even a day after, Alderaan was gone.

 _Force_.

She forced herself to keep reading. Plans for the Death Star, the world killer, had been taken. That was what stared this entire nightmare. Leia had them. Her sweet, brave, little Queen. And when they were caught, she gave the plans to a droid. Sabé felt her lips quirk – she knew without even reading which droid it was. Even after all these years, Artoo was still tough as nails and stubborn as hell. If Leia gave him a job, that little droid was going to see it done.

The next words gave her pause.

Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was on the Death Star.

Obi-Wan had come to help Leia.

Obi-Wan had fought Darth Vader.

Obi-Wan had lost.

Sabé brought a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes burning with the beginning of tears.

 _Obi-Wan was dead._

After all these years.

He had lived all these years. In secret. In hiding.

And now he was gone.

Just like her Queen and his student.

He had been her last piece, her last link to the time Before. And now he was lost to her just like the others.

She bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself on. She could mourn later.

She read on.

About Leia's rescue, the chase the Imperial's gave, following all the way to the rebel base. The Death Star zeroing in on Yavin IV with the same deadly intent it had Alderaan. The Alliance's desperate attempt to destroy it, their success.

Then Sabé's eyes found the name of the pilot who had made the decisive shot.

 _Luke Skywalker_.

Her heart froze. She stopped breathing as she stared at the name in stunned incomprehension.

Skywalker.

 _Skywalker._

Alive.

The child was alive.

How though, she wondered. She remembered the sight of her Queen's body – she would never forget it – still swollen with child. It shouldn't have been possible. The child had died.

…or it was made to _look_ like the child had died.

Sabé's eyes snapped to the beginning of the report as she read it over again. He had been one of the group that had arrived to rescue Leia. He had arrived with Obi-Wan.

He had been with Obi-Wan.

Skywalker.

He was Anakin's child.

What she knew of the Jedi sprang forth. Anakin had been strong, it stood to reason that his child would be as well. Such a child would have to be kept hidden from the galaxy, especially with the shadow that fell around the time he was born.

Obi-Wan knew about the child.

Obi-Wan hid him.

Skywalker.

Anakin's child was alive.

 _Padmé's_ child was alive.

"You've read this?" she asked Eirtaé without looking away from the report.

"Yes."

"Anyone else?"

"No."

Sabé nodded absently, mind already sorting through possibilities. "Get the others," she said, "I think it's time we met this new hero of the Alliance."

Eirtaé's lips quirked ever so slightly, but her eyes were dark. "It's just like before isn't it?" she asked.

Sabé raised an eyebrow in question.

A small smile formed on Eirtaé's face. "Come on, Sabé," she teased lightly, eyes shining, "Surely you haven't forgotten? A planet in terrible danger from an oppressive force they couldn't possibly defend themselves against, let alone defeat."

Sabé chuckled, throat tight and eyes burning. "And who should save them," she murmured, smiling even as her tears finally fell, "but the boy who walks across the sky like he was born with wings on his back and wind in his soul."

* * *

 **Ahhhhh, so no Luke yet. That part comes next. This just started getting really long so I broke it up. Thoughts so far?  
**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	8. Skywalker: Part II

**Here it is, everyone! The moment we have all been waiting for! Hope you guys like it!**

* * *

Luke was quiet as he followed behind General Rieekan.

The man hadn't said much other than there was someone who wanted to meet him. It wasn't the first time it happened – though it was the first time that the General came to escort him personally to a private meeting – and Luke figured it wouldn't be the last. He'd grown quiet popular since Yavin IV. People wanted to know him.

But this was different.

Luke couldn't really tell how, but something about this was important.

The air around him sang in a way he was coming to associate with the Force.

It made him restless.

Rieekan led him to one of the smaller briefing rooms. Inside, there was a person waiting for them. She was seated at the table, facing the door, so Luke could see her face. She was human, though her face was white, two red dots adorning her cheeks. Her upper lip was red, a single stripe of red painted down her lower lip. She had long, dark hair that was pulled into six strands that were held together with silver clasps. She was dressed in winter gear that most of the base wore, though her coat was longer and came to her knees. Her dark eyes caught and held his and Luke felt his breath catch.

She was one of the Naboo Queens.

It seemed so long ago that he had seen news holos of them back on Tatooine about them.

"Luke, this is Agent Amidala," Rieekan introduced, "She's one of our best operatives and a founding member of the Alliance."

Luke struggled not to fidget under her gaze and dipped in a shallow bow. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am."

Amidala's face remained impassive, but Luke caught the amusement that flashed across her eyes. "You as well, young one," she said.

Her voice was deeper than Luke was expecting, but it was calm and composed as the rest of her.

"Thank you, General," she continued, turning to Rieekan, "I would like to speak with him alone."

Rieekan tipped his head in acknowledgement and left the room. Amidala gestured to the chair next to her and Luke sat. He wasn't entirely sure what to say to this woman and had no idea what to make of the way she looked at him.

"Thank you, Luke," she said after a long moment, softer than it had been before, but no less commanding.

Luke blinked, caught off guard by the sentiment. "Ma'am?"

Amidala's lips quirked up into a shadow of a smile. "For your actions on the Death Star," she clarified, "Alderaan had long been a friend to us. The galaxy is darker for its loss." Her eyes were filled with the deep sadness of one who had seen too much. It was something Luke was seeing more and more often and he didn't like it. "Leia is dear to us. Thank you for helping her."

"It was the right thing to do," Luke said softly.

Amidala gave him a real smile then and it was beautiful. She placed a hand over his. "The right thing is often the most difficult choice one can make, little one," she said, "If the right thing were easy, everyone would be doing it."

Luke gave her a shy smile. "I wasn't the only one who helped."

Her smile dimmed some and her fingers curled around his hand instead of pulling away. "Yes," she said pausing for a moment, seeming to debate what to say before continuing, "You knew Obi-Wan well?"

Melancholy filled his chest as he shook his head. "Not really. He was a stranger for most of my life, but he always seemed to be there when I was in trouble. I knew him as Ben."

Amidala huffed. "Trouble, was it?" she mused, eyeing him with a knowing gleam that he didn't understand, "Your name is Skywalker."

It wasn't a question, but Luke nodded anyway.

Amidala didn't look surprised. "Trouble has a tendency to follow Skywalkers," she said and Luke suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe, "You look so much like them," she whispered, eyes glassy.

"Did you…did you know my parents?" he asked, voice hushed, but filled with desperate longing.

"What do you know of them?" Amidala asked instead.

"I…well, I don't know," Luke said, a little thrown by the question, "Uncle Owen said that my father was a pilot who died in the war. Ben said that he was a Jedi."

Amidala tilted her head in acknowledgement. "What of your mother?"

Luke shook his head a little helplessly. "Aunt Beru said they only ever met her once and it wasn't for that long. I…I don't know anything about her," he admitted feeling a rush of shame. He didn't even know his mother's name. He knew nothing of her.

Amidala hummed thoughtfully. She looked disappointed but not surprised by what he said. "Your father was an incredibly gifted Jedi," she said, "Very strong in the Force as I understand it. As his child, it stood to reason you would be just as strong. I suspect that is why Obi-Wan hid you away."

Luke stared. "Hid me? What – Why?"

"Though he is very good at hiding it, the Emperor is a Sith," Amidala said gravelly, "They are the opposite of the Jedi in every way. He is responsible for the slaughter of over ten thousand Jedi – including children. He wouldn't have thought twice about a newborn."

Luke swallowed, throat dry. Jedi had only ever been stories before. Before the Death Star and Leia and Ben. Now, he knew why they had never been something more. "So Ben – Obi-Wan, I mean…"

"He was very close to your parents," Amidala admitted softly, "He was your father's teacher and a very dear friend to your mother. The three of them were together often. Looking back knowing what I do now, I suspect the only reason he didn't give into despair after their deaths was because he had you to look after."

Luke turned that over in his head. Ben had been very isolated, very quiet. He had carried an air of sadness around him like a cloak. He remembered the way he'd been trapped in a sandstorm when he was young only to wake up at home with no idea how he'd gotten there. Uncle Owen had been angry, of course, and Aunt Beru had been beside herself with worry. But neither of them had been the one to fetch him and he certainly hadn't made it back on his own.

"He was a good man," he said.

Amidala gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand once more before finally letting go. He'd forgotten she was even holding it. "I will miss him very much," she said, "But he is likely happier where he is now. Returned to those he had lost."

Luke nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he understood. It had been months, almost a year now, and part of him still ached over the fact that Ben was gone. Amidala was watching him carefully and her makeup made it very difficult for Luke to read her expression.

"Your father's name was Anakin Skywalker," she said after a long moment, her words making Luke straighten, "Your mother's name," she continued softly, eyes holding his, "was Padmé Naberrie Amidala."

Luke stared at her, eyes wide. "Are you – ?" he faltered, unable to voice the thought.

Amidala shook her head. "No," she said softly, "The name Amidala was given to me by others because my appearance is very close to hers, but I am not her. Padmé has been dead for almost twenty years now."

Twenty years.

As long as he'd been alive.

"What was she to you?" he asked softly.

She released a long, slow breath, eyes going distant. "She was my friend," she said, "She was my sister in all but blood. She was my Queen."

Luke's brow furrowed at the last part, confused and more than a little stunned. "Will you tell me about them? About my parents?"

Amidala grinned and the expression looked odd on her painted face. "Of course," she said, standing and beckoning him with a hand, "Walk with me."

Luke rose to follow her, eager and anxious. "Who are you really?" he couldn't help but blurt as she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

She smiled. "My name is Sabé," she said, "And I only ever dreamed of meeting you, Luke."

* * *

Luke was overwhelmed.

Sabé had led him back to the living quarters and to a room filled with twelve other women. They were all women he'd heard stories about. Some of them were still wearing their famous makeup others were not and the rest were in the process of removing it. But there was no hiding the fact that they were all like Sabé.

They were all rebels. They were all Naboo Queens.

And they all looked at him with adoring, wonder filled smiles.

Sabé introduced each woman.

Eirtaé was the only blond among them and she had hugged him tight. "You have your mother's smile," she whispered to him.

Yané was mute but beamed at him when introduced, gesturing with her hands as Saché stood by her side and translated her joy into words Luke could understand.

Umé took his hand in both of hers and held fast. "You have no idea how happy we are to meet you, Luke," she said softly, eyes gleaming.

Fé cried openly at the sight of him. "You look so much like them," she said, "But nothing like them at all."

Dané pulled her close and Hollé smiled at him while Fé curled close and cried into Dané's shoulder. "What she means is that we can see both of them in you," Hollé explained after seeing his confusion, "But you are enough of both of them that you are neither of them. You are your own person, Luke. And we are so glad about that. So glad."

Moteé and Ellé each kissed both of his cheeks.

"It's a traditional Naboo greeting," Ellé explained.

"Your mother was from Naboo," Moteé said, "Her culture is yours as well."

Miré took his face in both her hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I don't care about culture," she said, "I just care about you."

Dormé rolled her eyes at all of them. "Honestly, stop invading his space," she chided, "He's barely known all of you for three minutes."

Rabé snickered, handing Sabé a damp cloth that she used to wipe the makeup off her face. "You know better than that, Dormé," she said, a teasing lit to her voice, "Sorry, Luke, but you've been claimed now and there is no getting out of it."

And Luke found that he could do nothing but grin at them, helpless to do anything else. "You know, I think I can live with that."

Rabé laughed.

Sabé drew him farther into the room and they all found various seats – it was crowded, but not in an uncomfortable way.

"We all worked for your mother, once upon a time," Eirtaé started, "When she was fourteen, your mother was elected the Queen of Naboo. We were her handmaidens."

Luke blinked. "Queen? You mean, I'm - ?" Luke was baffled by the mere thought of being royalty. He wasn't suited for that, not like Leia was.

Rabé shook her head, a slight smile on her lips at his no doubt panicked expression. "No, no. Royalty isn't hereditary on Naboo. It's an elected position that is held for set terms."

Luke couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him, ducking his head at the chuckles the action earned.

"Was she a good queen?" he asked.

"The best," was the response from more than one mouth.

"But that's not really what you want to ask," Sabé said from her place next to him, her gaze knowing.

Across the room Fé grinned. "Oh, we should tell him the story he wants to know then."

Luke tilted his head. "Which one is that?"

Eirtaé's smile was sly and teasing. "How your parents met of course."

Luke grinned.

"It was during your mother's first term as Queen," Dané started, "The Trade Federation had just invaded…"

Luke listened, entranced, as they spun him a tale of droids invading, a blockade, of the suffering on Naboo. How they finally came for the Queen – _his mother_ – only for two Jedi to show up and steal them away. He was surprised to learn one of those Jedi was Obi-Wan.

"Your parents and Obi-Wan all met each other around the same time," Sabé said, "Theirs was a bond forged in fire."

He listened as Sabé spoke of taking his mother's place as they escaped. How their ship was damaged and how they had no choice but to stop on Tatooine to look for parts to fix it.

"Padmé was curious about different planets," Rabé said, "So she demanded to be taken along by Master Jinn."

Eirtaé huffed. "Do you remember the fit Panaka threw over it? He was furious."

"You are a Queen!" Rabé cried, dropping her voice in imitation of someone else, "And no Queen is going to walk into that cesspit of Hutt waste!"

Luke's lips quirked up as the others dissolved into giggles. "Well he wasn't wrong," he pointed out.

Sabé snorted. "Like that would have stopped Padmé."

Umé was shaking her head, expression fond. "Your mother was a force of nature, Luke. Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it."

"A trait I suspect you've inherited as well, knowing our luck," Miré said, eying him suspiciously.

Luke grinned innocently back at her.

"Oh Force," Dormé groaned, "That's the expression Anakin always made right before someone found out he crossed all the wires in the building."

Ellé laughed. "I remember that! You should have seen Senator Taa's _face_ – "

"Alright, alright," Sabé called, "We're getting off track."

"I don't think Luke minds that much," Dané said, looking at Luke.

"Ah, sorry," Luke said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. He was happy and he knew that he was most likely sitting here grinning like a complete fool listening to these women talk about _his parents_ and he couldn't help it. "It's just, I mean, I never thought I'd get the chance to _hear_ about this stuff and here you are _telling_ me about it and it's just – amazing, and I – "

Eirtaé chucked, reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze. "It's alright, Luke," she said, "We're not going anywhere. Let's get through one story at a time, hm?"

Luke beamed.

* * *

 **And so Luke has been officially adopted and is now going to hear all the stories. All of them.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


	9. Mission: Ghost

**Prompt fill for (AngelQueen, Connwaer49, Aki no Kitsune, and Brievel who asked for an initial Darth Vader reaction to the Queens.**

* * *

Ghost

* * *

It was impossible.

He knew it was.

He had seen Her body himself, had been to Her tomb.

And yet.

Vader stared at the holo, completely fixated on the women in the image, his breathing echoing loudly in the silent room.

He remembered that day.

The day he burned.

It was the day She had looked at him so desperately, eyes wet with tears. The day She had backed away from him with fear on Her face, with betrayal and heartbreak and desperation in every line of Her body. The day that She pleaded with him, begged him to stay with Her, to love Her, to let Her love him in return, to be a father to their child, to leave with Her.

The day he killed Her.

He remembered that day.

Remembered the anger and the hatred and the betrayal he felt when Obi-Wan had stepped out of Her ship. Remembered the way he had reached out and _squeezed_. Remembered the way Her hands flew to Her throat and the surprise in Her eyes and Her gasped pleas. Remembered the way She fell bonelessly to the ground, sprawled out on the durasteel landing platform, breathing shallow and reedy.

He loved Her.

He would always love Her.

And he killed Her.

Not in labor like his visions had shown him, for he had seen Her body still swollen with child, but by his hand. Two lives extinguished in a moment of blind rage, lives that he had always sworn were more precious to him than anything and he'd snuffed them out like they were nothing.

And now he stared at the ghosts projected before him and tried to pretend that his heart wasn't clenching in his chest, that his stomach wasn't sinking, that a chill wasn't lacing up his spine, that his regulator wasn't working overtime to keep his breathing steady.

She was dead.

She was dead because he killed Her.

She was dead because he killed Her and now Her ghosts were haunting him.

She was dead because he killed Her and now Her ghosts were haunting him and burning the Empire he had worked to build to keep Her safe to the ground.

He'd done it for Her.

He'd taken their war torn galaxy and reshaped it into something that would protect Her.

Yet when he'd tried to tell Her of it, to make Her see how glorious and wonderful it was, She had backed away from him. She'd shaken Her head and looked at him like She'd never seen him before. She'd looked at what he'd done – out of love for Her, to protect Her, to _save Her_ – and said no.

She'd said no.

He hadn't listened.

And now the Empire he had built for Her was burning.

Oh they were small fires, easily put out and seemingly insignificant considering the grander scale, but he knew – for She had taught him oh so long ago – that even the smallest of sparks could grow into a raging inferno.

Why couldn't She understand?

Why couldn't She see what he had built for Her?

Why did She haunt him like this?

How could She not see how much he loved Her? How much he still loved Her even after all this time?

And yet.

He'd always been fire. Fire and passion and a burning tangle of emotion that refused to be extinguished.

She'd always been water. Rare and precious and necessary for life. She was willful and spirited and spoke Her mind. She was freedom personified.

She hadn't feared fire.

She'd never feared fire.

She'd never been afraid to burn.

And as he watched Her ghosts move with all the grace and ferocity of a storm, he wondered if She even could.

* * *

 **I rather like this one.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~Elri**


End file.
